


We All Grow Old

by Sanoiro



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, No Drama, Silly Devil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-12 07:58:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19565029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanoiro/pseuds/Sanoiro
Summary: But The Devil Does Not...





	We All Grow Old

**Author's Note:**

> A quick drabble/ficlet for B&A who planted this idea in my head. I'm convinced it was a joined effort.

**We All Grow Old**

* * *

Hair product application is art. The amount, the strokes between his stubborn curls, the light swirl Lucifer leaves hanging just for her enjoyment. It’s not just a routine as it has been elevated to a painstaking ritual.

One that he loves until everything changes.

The first strikes of silver are mistaken as the reflection of some playful morning rays through their window. He stares at them in disbelief for the Devil does not age, he matures yes, but time slides off him. Always has, always will. 

It’s one of the many rules of the universe that have not changed. _He_ has not changed and yet Lucifer cannot comprehend why his hair, do. Why his forehead wrinkles now seem deeper, his hair lighter?

Like with everything he does not understand, he hides it.

Months pass and two symmetrical white patches appear on his morning stubble. Just like that the time is up.

“The Devil does _not_ age! He _matures_ ,” Lucifer instructs his reflection as if his almost menacing voice will make the poking silver disappear.

“His hair do not go _grey!_ They just _don’t!_ ” He whimpers trimmer in hand trying to conceal what he knows is deeply rooted within his skin.

His agitation grows but Lucifer knows he does not. He is not mortal nor does he become one so there is no valid explanation. Peace has been offered to him on the knowledge that all living creatures age, weaken and wither to death as his lover one day will as well. So where does his puzzlement lie?

Problem is that this unfair deal of cosmic mismanagement does not include him. Lucifer makes deals, he does not adhere to them. 

He never hears her approach as the trimmer buzzes close to his ear.

The applied hand cream moisturizer makes her fingers impossibly soft when they rest on his softly vibrating ones.

“Stop,” she tells gently removing the clipper from his hands and away from the betraying millimetres that cause his disturbed mystification. 

Their eyes meet in the mirror and the perspective drowns him.

Her eyes are the same but time has indeed passed. Some light freckles are there and the gold ponytail carries several whites. What he cannot hide, nature offers it to her effortlessly and the realisation comes.

“What are you doing?” She questions, trailing her thumb over his abused chin and unevenly trimmed temples.

She understands but is unaware that whatever this is, started the moment Lucifer noticed that very first grey among the splayed hair on her pillow. Basking in the afterglow had taken a whole new meaning for him since then.

Age was lightening her up _blindingly_ before his eyes. It was beautiful and equally terrifying.

She laughs and kisses his forehead near the mauled evidence of his externalising empathy. How can she not for they do not fear death as they have been granted eternity down the road.

However, it doesn’t mean he likes it.

The seconds pass as she caresses every abused spot and finally urges him to just get dressed already.

No, Lucifer does not like it.

He _loves_ it.

**The End**

* * *


End file.
